Tears of the Dov
by ApostituteofKirkwall
Summary: The Dragonborn dies and the dragons can only watch and sense it. Story focus is Paarthurnax. Yes, my Dragonborn is a gay male, but the story has only a small part to do with him.


All dov could feel it... Feel the life of the one who'd set them free of Alduin fading. The Dragonborn was dying, husband and children at his bedside, friends outside the door, praying to the gods to let him stay longer in this world. And the dov... they gathered at the Throat of the World much like they had when Alduin had been beaten and slain. That day, many of the dragons had cried out and shouted in anger and frustration, but this day, they were silent. Despite the Dragonborn being a joor, a mortal, the dragons could still feel his life fading away due to his dragon blood. It Paarthurnax sat upon his up on his perch on the Word Wall and stared down at the world below. Not much could be seen, but he could see enough to lose himself in thought.

He was going to miss the Dragonborn more than any other dov. Lurch had been the Nord's name. An odd name, but an easy one to remember. Lurch would always come up to the peak when he could and tell stories or sing. Paarthurnax loved it when Lurch would sing. It was beautiful... The old dragon looked over as Odahviing perched next to him, looking just as sad and heart broken. Paarthurnax remembered easily the first time he'd met Odahviing. The red dragon had been loud, reckless, but very sweet in his own way. Despite sympathizing with Alduin, Odahviing had a standard he liked. Whoever had the strongest Thu'um was going to be the one he followed. And for the longest time, that was Alduin, then Lurch came along. The day they'd met had been an... Interesting one to say the least.

Lurch had trapped him inside a building and pried for information on Alduin's location. A puny, human mage had decided to go to Odahviing's backside and pull off a scale, angering him and, oddly enough, the Dragonborn. Odahviing had been quite confused when the mortal had chased the mage to the doors of the keep, shouting something along the lines of "You filthy cur! Get back here!"

Suddenly, the cold air... Grew colder and all the dov knew... Lurch had passed on. Died. Lurch's family and friend wept at his side, holding him or clinging to each other for comfort. The dragons, meanwhile, sat in the cold, unsure of what to do now that the one the could look to, besides Paarthurnax, was dead. But they soon got their answer of what to do when Paarthurnax roared at the sky. Not Shouting, but roaring. Loudly and sadly. Odahviing soon followed, roaring at the heavens. One by one, the dragons joined to chorus of melancholy roars, alerting many mortals below.

As he roared, Paarthurnax shook and tried his best to stay composed, but it was hard. But he finally cracked and fell backwards off his perch to lay in the snow. The other's stared, confused as to why their leader was laying on the snowy ground, shaking. There was one... No two... Three shaky breaths, then a low whine. It soon dawned on the other's that Paarthurnax, the dov who was strong when his brother grew twisted, who was brave and trusting when told the Blades wanted him dead, was laying on the ground crying.

Soon, the other's followed suit, curling up on the ground and around one another as they cried. Dragons weren't sentimental creatures normally, but Paarthurnax taught them that emotion was okay. So there they lay, shaking and sobbing into the snow as more of the fluffy white stuff rained down.

Footsteps were heard coming up the slope, quick ones, but none of the dragons made to move. They were too distraught. "Paarthurnax?" The old dovah looked up, tears staining his cheeks. Arngeir sighed and approached his master, eyes sad, while the other Greybeards stood back, still shocked dragons would cuddle and cry. "Would you like him buried up here?" The old dragon thought for a moment... Have the Dragonborn buried up here? "Yes."

* * *

And so it was done. Lurch's family had attended the funeral and even said hello to Paathrunax, despite being afraid. Now here the grey dragon sat, staring at his friend's grave, trying to not cry again. "I am sorry, Dovahkiin." he whispered. "Krosis. I wish I could have done something to help." He swallowed and shivered as he felt another dragon's wing go over his body. "Odahviing..."

"Sorry... You just seem to need comfort."

Paarthurnax nodded. He did need comfort. He'd just lost his best friend and it hurt more than a sword to the heart. "We will see him again one day, Paarthurnax. I promise."

And once more, the old dragon wept, letting all know... That the dov can indeed cry, and that the the tears of the dov were filled with more anguish than any other creature's.


End file.
